Reckoning
by KSCrusaders
Summary: When Esbern and Delphine ask the unthinkable of the Dragonborn, she uncovers truths about both Paarthurnax and herself when trying to do what's right. A reimagining of the Blades' quest, reposted from the Skyrim kmeme. Genfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Reckoning**

_By KSCrusaders_

PART ONE: An Unexpected Request

It happened during a break in the truce negotiations for the civil war, just when Alayne thought her headache couldn't get any worse. She was standing outside in the courtyard with Arngeir, watching the sun slowly sink behind the mountains. It was a shame that clobbering Ulfric and Tullius upside the head with Frost's hooves didn't count as "acceptable negotiation." The door from High Hrothgar opened behind them, and she heard the distinctive crunch of armored boots on thin, brittle snow.

"Delphine," she said without turning around.

"Esbern and I need to talk to you. In private," said the Blade. Alayne at least appreciated that about the older woman; no pussyfooting around, just straight to the point. Blunt, but effective. She followed Delphine back into High Hrothgar, skirting both the Imperial and Stormcloak delegations as they did so. Tullius's eyes were practically boring into her from one side of the entrance hall, warning her not to mess up the negotiations.

Esbern stood next to the great stone doors at the entrance, watching Alayne with more than a little sympathy. "These men of war have no idea what they're up against," he grumbled as she and Delphine drew into earshot. "I commend your patience."

Alayne couldn't help but smile. "I'd save the commendations for now. I might still snap and Shout one of them off the mountain."

"Let's get on with this," Delphine cut in. "We don't have much time before negotiations resume." She looked at Alayne, her eyes cold and calm.

"We know about Paarthurnax. The leader of the Greybeards."

Whatever reaction Delphine anticipated, it certainly wasn't the one she got.

"I know," said Alayne, carefully smoothing any reaction from her face. "But don't you think it's a bit tasteless to ask me to kill him while the Greybeards are hosting a peace negotiation?" She slowly clenched and relaxed one hand behind her back; years of experience in the courts of Cyrodiil kept her rising anger in check. Here she was trying to negotiate a truce, and Delphine just had to throw another wrench into the works.

Still, she almost laughed at the flabbergasted expression on Delphine's face. Esbern, to his credit, recovered more quickly. "I'm guessing you read through my old books at Sky Temple Haven," he said. "You didn't strike me as a scholar."

Alayne managed an almost perfect smile. "I don't do things halfway, Esbern."

"Then you understand why Paarthurnax needs to die." Esbern's jaw was set, his tone final. "It is admittedly unpleasant, but-"

"Didn't I just say it was gouche to kill him the the middle of peace talks?"

"This isn't a game, Dragonborn," hissed Delphine. "Paarthurnax is Alduin's brother. He was his right hand during his brutal oppression of Skyrim. We can't discount the possibility of him turning on us with Alduin's return."

Alayne opened her mouth to respond, but just then, the doors from the courtyard opened, and Arngeir and the rest of the Greybeards stepped back inside. The Greybeard leader's eyes fell on her and the Blades, and she could practically feel Arngeir's displeasure radiating from him. She sighed, plastering on her best diplomatic face. The bells tolled, marking the hour, and the delegations began to make their way back into the negotiating room.

Part of her wanted to just ignore Delphine and Esbern, hope the whole problem would go away. The rest of her knew that it was never so simple.

"If wishes were fishes," she muttered to herself, taking her seat once more at the head of the negotiating table. It was going to be a long afternoon.

By the time Ulfric and Tullius had finally agreed to a semblance of a truce, the sun had set, and the sky was turning a deep, dusky purple. Alayne considered making the two war leaders shake on it, then thought better of it. Not drawing their swords in High Hrothgar was progress enough. Ulfric stormed out the moment the treaty was signed without so much as a glance at anyone, least of all the old Greybeard who sat opposite Alayne.

Arngeir merely shook his head sadly, watching his former pupil go. Privately, Alayne thought someone like the Stormcloak firebrand would never be happy in High Hrothgar, no matter how many praises to Kynareth he Shouted. But no matter how wearing the day had been on him, Arngeir maintained his exceptional manners, even going so far as to escort the Imperials and the Blades to the doors of the temple.

Alayne followed, but only to the threshold. When Esbern fixed her with a meaningful look, she held up a hand to stop him from saying anything.

"I'll handle it," she said.

Esbern looked surprised, but relieved. "You see, Delphine? And here you were worried."

Delphine merely sighed and left the temple, sparing one last look at Alayne, who kept her face smoothly expressionless. As soon as she and the Greybeards were the only souls left in High Hrothgar, Arngeir turned to her.

"You should not have given the Imperials as much as you did," he chided. "This peace will not last."

"It won't last anyway," said Alayne. "The moment news of Alduin's defeat reaches Windhelm or Solitude, the truce is off."

"You knew these men of war would not make honest attempts at peace, and yet you brought them here."

Alayne bit down the sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue and sighed, rubbing her temples. "I know. And I'm sorry, but I had no choice. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."

He fixed her with piercing eyes. "You can start by telling me what the Blades wanted so badly to keep private."

_Crap._

"Esbern was just telling me some information he uncovered in the old Blade archives in Sky Haven Temple. But you don't like the Blades, and they don't like you. Is it any wonder you keep secrets from each other?"

It wasn't a lie. Not exactly. But Arngeir merely shook his head, his voice low with disappointment. "You mix truths with falsehoods and evasions. I have tried to show you the path of purity and truth, but you insist on burdening yourself with the habits of your past."

She'd heard the criticism before, while the Greybeards were training her in the basics of the Voice, but it stung more now that she was out there risking her neck against great flaming lizards. "The world isn't simple or pure, Arngeir. When you find a way to defeat Alduin with pacifism, let me know." And with that, she walked out the door, the gates closing behind her with an ominous thud.

Frost was waiting for her outside, nose deep in his feed bag next to the Greybeards' offering box. She smiled and offered him a sugar cube from her pocket, which he happily accepted. She extracted a small pouch from his saddlebags.

"Head on back to Ivarstead, ok?" she murmured to the stallion, rubbing his nose affectionately. "Klimmek will put you up for the night, and if you're extra good, there might be apples in your breakfast."

He nipped at her hair, then turned and cantered down the mountain path. Alayne watched him disappear into the almost complete darkness, wondering why in Tamriel her horse had more sense than most of the people in power. Thank the Divines the night was a bit warmer than usual for Skyrim, and clear as a still pond. She waited until the lights of High Hrothgar winked out after evening praises before turning her attention to the bag she'd retrieved.

Potions of stamina, rope, a climber's kit, and hooks. She slung the bag over her shoulders and faced the (almost) sheer mountainside up to Paarthurnax's roost.

This was the fun part.

She'd made the climb before; there was an animal trail up the mountain, far steeper and more dangerous than the path the Greybeards used, but it was also unobscured by the barriers of mist and snow. Perfect for getting up the mountain without Shouting her presence to everything within several miles. Only a pale magical light, bobbing a few inches above her head, gave away her position.

And as she moved carefully up the mountainside, she thought about what Delphine and Esbern had said.

Or rather, what they hadn't said. Alayne recalled the books Esbern was talking about, the ones that catalogued all the dragons the Blades had ever encountered. It was awfully vague when it came to Paarthurnax, only saying that the Blades knew of his location and were waiting to punish him for his crimes. Esbern's books had, however, been full of details about the nature of Alduin's first regime over Tamriel. The dragon-priest puppet rulers, the casual human sacrifices, the brutal treatment of any who so much as breathed wrong...it was almost too horrible to be believable.

Paarthurnax was gentle, kind...warm and paternal and safe. He was one of the few people in all of Skyrim who had been nothing but supportive of her. And although Alayne knew there was no reason for the ancient Blades to fabricate their knowledge, she just couldn't reconcile the dragon she'd met to the accounts in Esbern's books.

Her foot slipped some icy rock, and she cursed, dragging herself back into a reasonably safe position on her hands and knees. She whispered a spell, briefly warming herself with a burst of flame, and tried to shove Paarthurnax from her mind.

She'd get the chance to ask him in person, with no one any the wiser, if the climb didn't kill her.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO: Shadow of the Past

Alayne always felt like a child approaching Paarthurnax's roost. The moon was high in the sky by the time she pulled herself over the final crest, her breath coming out on fast puffs of steam. She heard the soft swoosh of Paarthurnax's tattered wings overhead, saw him shadowed in moonlight against the snow. He circled the mountain peak once, twice, before landing in his usual position on the faded Word Wall.

"Drem Yol Lok, Paarthurnax," she said respectfully.

"And to you, Dovahkiin," he replied, inclining his head slightly in her direction. His eyes glittered strangely in the moonlight. "You are troubled, mal gein. What brings you to my strunmah like a vokun tafiir, a thief in the night?"

Alayne sighed and sat down on the stone at the bottom of the Word Wall. Just for once, she'd like to be able to have a normal conversation with someone. How was your day, how are the kids, that sort of nonsense. Ever since defeating her first dragon near Whiterun, life was nothing but trouble.

She decided honesty was the best policy. "The Blades and I had a talk today," she said, the words rushing out in a jumble before she lost her nerve. "They...told me you were Alduin's right hand during his first reign. They want me to kill you."

It was her turn to be flabbergasted when Paarthurnax looked at her with kind, weary eyes. "I am not surprised. It is always wise to mistrust another dovah."

Alayne blinked up at him like a deer caught in torchlight. "You...did just hear what I said, right?" It sounded even stupider aloud than it had in her head, but she plowed on. "Shouldn't you be telling me _not_ to kill you?"

The elder dragon shook his head slowly, sadly. "The Way of the Voice forbids nok, falsehoods." He dropped from his roost a few feet away from her and extended his wings toward her.

"Come, Dovahkiin. This night is cold, and my tale is long and bitter. I ask only that you listen."

And like a child, Alayne scooted closer, allowing the dragon she was supposed to be executing to fold tattered wings around her.

"Before you understand me, you must understand Alduin. You know his thu'um, his power. But you do not know the reason why. He is the firstborn of our father Akatosh, the greatest and wisest of the dovah. We are not like joor. We do not commit zeymah kein, warring among ourselves. We simply bow to the one with the strongest thu'um. Until recently, that was Alduin."

"Recently?" Alayne asked.

"Your thu'um bested his," Paarthunax explained patiently. Before she could press him, he continued, "But that is a conversation for another time. I speak of Alduin of old, before his fall to his own pahlok."

"The dovah ruled many lands in days long forgotten. The golt you call Atmora, homeland of your hero Ysgramor, was one of them. We were gods to the joor, chief among their pantheon, and in those days, there was peace."

Alayne frowned up at him. "I read that the dragons were brutal tyrants."

"Niid. We were the gods of a stern land, but we were not unnecessarily cruel. Until Alduin turned his gaze to Taazokaan, this land you call Tamriel.

"Here he saw chaos. Fahliil and muz fighting for scraps of land, with no order imposed upon them. He declared it the duty of the dov to serve as gods of Tamriel, and he would sit at the head of the pantheon."

"And no one challenged him?" asked Alayne incredulously.

"No dovah had ever challenged Alduin. It was vanmindoraan, akin to challenging Akatosh himself. And so, the dovah came to Tamriel...and naturally, the joor resisted.

"We slaughtered the native joor by the thousands. The willing followers of the dovah, those you know as dragon priests, were unable to fully quell a population that despised them, and after decades of stalemate, Alduin intervened personally.

"His retribution was swift and brutal. The very heavens spat fire and lightning at his command. For ten days and nights he rained devastation. And I aided him. There were those who bent the knee to the dov, out of fear and desperation. My task was to break them, to turn them into slaves who were little better than sivaas. I played my part well."

Alayne shuddered. The self-loathing in Paarthurnax's voice cut like a knife. She reached out to touch his wing, then pulled her hand away as though burned. All the warmth seemed to drain from the dragon's presence.

Finally, Paarthurnax began to speak again, breaking the silence like a physical wall. "Alduin called the most powerful of the dovah to speak with him here, on this very mountain. He claimed that in defying him, the joor had defied our father Akatosh himself. He declared himself the physical manifestation of Akatosh's will. That was when I first began to see Alduin's pahlok, the pride that gnawed at his heart.

"I did not take counsel with my brother that night. Instead, I flew and looked down upon the land. The ashen forests, the blood-red sky, the smoke-laced air. A seed of doubt crept into my soul. But I did nothing. I warred with myself as Alduin laid waste to city after city, and only when the rivers ran red with joor blood did I act.

"The rest you know, Dovahkiin. I betrayed Alduin. I taught the thu'um to mortals. And here I have lived with my shame and guilt, waiting for my brother to return."

Hundreds, thousands of questions swirled in Alayne's head, each fighting to escape. Finally, she said quietly, "The Nords say it was Kynareth who gave mortals the power of the thu'um."

"I was the teacher. Perhaps I was merely an agent of the gods. I do not claim to know their will. I am not Alduin."

Alayne got to her feet unsteadily. Paarthurnax opened his wings, letting her walk away. She retreated to a safe distance, out of the range of his thu'um.

"The Blades were right. You-" Her voice broke.

"The dovah were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood, even yours. I know I can be trusted due to meditation and long study of the Way of the Voice, but I will not ask you to spare me."

Paarthurnax turned away, looking up at the moon. "What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

The words were directed to the sky, or perhaps Kynareth, not her. But Alayne remained standing there for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she willed life into her limbs, near-frozen with cold, and pulled her dagger from her belt.

The daedric weapon felt like lead in her hand. Paarthurnax didn't even turn around to face her. She looked at him in the moonlight, the weight of eons on his shoulders, the scars cresting his spine, his tattered and powerful wings.

Mehrunes' Razor fell from her fingers, landing point first in the snow.

Paarthurnax turned around at the faint sound, but there was no one there. Only light footprints to the edge of the mountain, where a near precipice concealed the barest hint of a steep and treacherous path.

"Drem voth hio, Dovahkiin," he whispered into the wind. "Aal kun aak hin sil."

* * *

Alayne nearly blundered into two bandit ambushes and a giant's encampment during the long ride to Sky Haven Temple from Ivarstead. Mercifully, Frost knew when his mistress was being an idiot, and steered them clear of danger in time. She slept restlessly if at all, and it wasn't for lacking her favorite dagger.

She had never been the religious type, beyond uttering the odd token prayer for courage or luck or whatever. But on the second evening since leaving the Throat of the World, she struck camp near Bloated Man's Grotto. Leaving Frost to guard the campsite, she made her way into the cave.

The weathered Shrine of Talos was still there, its surface covered with fallen leaves. She swept them from the shrine and knelt next to it.

Most people offered septims, flowers, or tokens to these kinds of shrines. Alayne fished around in her pack for her spare dagger and slid the edge along the very tip of her index finger. A few drops of blood, livid against the grey stone, fell to the bottom of Talos's symbol. Before she could feel too self-conscious, Alayne closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"The Greybeards called you Ysmir, Dragon of the North," she said in a hurried whisper. "You were Dragonborn too, but you were a general, conqueror, emperor. I just got caught up in this mess. I'm no Ysmir, no matter what the Greybeards say. So if you can hear me, please help me."

She opened her eyes to silence. Sighing, she got to her feet and walked back to camp.

"I don't know what I was expecting," she said to Frost. "Maybe a brilliant moment of divine inspiration. Or a new Shout, perhaps something to make all my problems evaporate." The horse looked up at her briefly before sticking his nose back into the stream. "I know you can't talk. Pretending you can just helps me think."

Frost snorted, spraying her with icy water.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't pretend to hear that!"


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE: Dragon of the North

By noon the next day, Alayne stood down the path from Sky Haven Temple. She could hear Delphine practicing drills in the courtyard and felt slightly ill, like a pupil being sent to the headmaster's office.

Delphine and Esbern were right. But so was Paarthurnax. She gritted her teeth and walked into the courtyard, habit helping her fake confidence she most certainly did not feel.

Esbern was sitting on a bench a few paces away from Delphine, nose deep in a book as usual. He looked up with a smile as Alayne approached.

"Ah, Dragonborn," he said, getting to his feet. "Is it done?"

Alayne forced herself to meet the old man's eyes. "It's more complicated than I initially anticipated," she began, but Delphine cut in without even breaking her rhythm against the training dummy.

"We have nothing to talk about until Paarthurnax is dead," she said, her sword point slashing across the dummy's painted heart. Alayne winced and looked instinctively to Esbern.

"I thought you could handle the Greybeards. Or at least avoid them," he said slowly.

"It's not that, it's-"

"It's that you didn't have the stomach to do the right thing."

Delphine finally turned from the training dummy, though her sword remained unsheathed. Her lips were thin with anger. "Well?" she demanded. "Isn't that it? You came all this way just to tell Esbern and I you lost your nerve?"

"Delphine, we should hear her out. There are any number of things that could have-"

"No."

Both Blades turned to Alayne. "No, I didn't lose my nerve," said the young Breton, her voice growing stronger with each word. "But I'm not going to so much as take a scale off Paarthurnax's tail, and you're going to hear me out."

Delphine's eyes narrowed dangerously. "There's nothing _to _hear. You're the Dragonborn. You need to do this."

"I'm trying to explain," said Alayne with a twinge of exasperation. "Paarthurnax is different from the other dragons. He wants to be good. And he is."

"A few good deeds don't make up for centuries of evil," said Esbern. "At some point, there must be a reckoning."

"There already has been. He's lived on that mountain for ages with his guilt, spent every moment of every day atoning for it. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance?"

"Some people don't," said Delphine bitterly. She thrust her sword through the dummy's neck. "Those who destroy without thought, who seek to impose their will on others. Those who have no mercy deserve no mercy."

Silence followed her outburst, and looking at the other woman's battle scars and worn features, Alayne saw something other than anger. "Is this about Paarthurnax, or about the Thalmor?" she asked quietly.

It was evidently the wrong thing to say. Delphine's eyes flashed, and she strode up to Alayne until they were almost nose-to-nose, brushing off Esbern's restraining hand on her shoulder.

"I am a Blade, one of the last, and I have not spent the last two and a half decades on the run just to be lectured by the likes of-"

"The likes of _what_, exactly?" said Alayne, her own temper starting to rise. "The likes of a sheltered little Breton girl? Or perhaps the Arch-Mage of Winterhold's College? The master of the Thieves' Guild? The destroyer of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"You think I care? You are Dragonborn! Your purpose is to slay dragons, and if you can't even fulfill that, I cannot serve you as a Blade."

To Alayne, it merely felt like a swell of white-hot fury bubbling up uncontrollably within her. But to Esbern and Delphine, it seemed as though she suddenly towered over them, eyes flashing with unearthly fire, power radiating from her in unrelenting waves.

"Yes, I am Dragonborn," she whispered. "I am the blood of Akatosh. I am Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, heir to the legacy of Talos himself!"

As she spoke, her voice grew until thunder crashed through the mountains, shaking the very stones of the temple. She turned her gaze to Delphine, then Esbern, who stood rooted to the spot.

"_You_ are sworn to serve and protect _me._You dare break your oath? You dare sever the bonds that have existed since the first Akiviri knelt before the first Dragonborn Emperor? If you are truly so blind in your arrogance, you no longer deserve to be called Blades."

And then as suddenly as it had come, the thunder receded, leaving a pretty young Breton with round green eyes blinking at the two shell-shocked Blades. The fury she'd felt so acutely subsided, but she could still feel an odd sort of tingling in her fingertips.

Esbern was the first to regain his composure. Wordlessly, he dropped the book he'd been holding and knelt in the snow before her. Delphine followed suit a few seconds later, still looking like she'd seen a ghost.

"You're right, Dragonborn," said Esbern gravely. "And as the first Blades swore their swords and lives to Tiber Septim and his heirs, so too do we to you."

Alayne hastily pulled them to their feet. "I, um, accept your oaths," she said, hoping that was more or less right. "Sorry for yelling. No harm done, ok?"

Delphine and Esbern exchanged a long, unfathomable look. "No harm done," said Delphine, looking faintly relieved.

"Good," said Alayne, managing a small but genuine smile. "I have to hit the road again. I just thought you deserved to know the truth."

Esbern didn't say a word until the Dragonborn and her mount were silhouettes against the mountainside. He looked askance at Delphine, who merely shook her head.

"That was...something," she said.

"Something indeed," said Esbern with the hint of a chuckle. Delphine sighed, but she allowed Esbern to steer her back into the temple. She retrieved her weapon from the dummy as she passed, sheathing it once more. Now, it seemed, was not the time for swords.

But soon, her blade would taste dragon blood, and for better or worse, it would do so under the command of the Dragonborn.

* * *

Alayne waited a while before returning to High Hrothgar. She had guild business in Markarth, and then there was that giant that Jarl Elisif wanted her to handle. All in all, it was two weeks before she once again opened the gates of High Hrothgar.

Arngeir was meditating in the main chamber, and though she tried to be quiet, he heard her footsteps and looked up as she approached. "Dragonborn," he said, getting to his feet. "I did not expect you."

Alayne bowed her head. "The Blades asked me to kill Paarthurnax," she said quietly. "And I didn't tell you because I thought it would make things worse. I'm sorry, Master Arngeir. You were right about me."

She felt Arngeir's wrinkled hand tilt her chin up, saw just the hint of a smile in his eyes. "The first step to enlightenment is admitting folly. I too was wrong to lose my temper with you." His expression hardened. "And the Blades?"

"They won't be a problem. I talked them down."

"You see?" said the old Greybeard, relaxing once more into his usual serene self. "Proof that words and wisdom are more powerful than swords and barbarism. Kynareth has given you a great gift, Dragonborn. Use it well."

Alayne bowed respectfully, though she did mark the faint note of triumph in Arngeir's voice. Even the wisest were still human, after all. Except one.

This time, she walked the wide path up to Paarthunax's roost, clearing the way with her Shout. By the time she reached the top, it was getting toward sunset. Her throat ached, but her shoulders and legs felt much better than last time.

The elder dragon was waiting for her. "Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin," he said. "I believe this belongs to you."

With a flick of his tail, he sent her dagger spinning through the air. Alayne caught it by the hilt and smiled hesitantly up at the dragon, and although he didn't exactly have human expressions, she could have sworn she saw him smile back.

"I wish to meditate on a word," she said. "On Drem."

Paarthurnax breathed gently in her direction, warm air soothing the aches from her climb.

"Drem. Peace. It is more than the absence of violence. It is harmony, unity, a oneness with earth and sky, sil and lein."

"Do you think you've achieved it?"

He blinked, clearly taken aback by her question. "I would not go so far," he said slowly. "It is not easy for a dovah to be at peace."

"I think you're too hard on yourself." Alayne reached out with gloved hands, resting them against the tip of his wing. "I think you could achieve drem. You just need to learn to forgive yourself."

Paarthurnax made a low rumbling sound. "And so the student seeks to teach the master," he said thoughtfully. "Yet there is onikaan, wisdom, in your words. I will meditate on them."

Alayne smiled as she sat at the base of his Wall, assuming the kneeling meditation position taught to her by the Greybeards. Paarthurnax took up his usual spot at the top of the wall. But before she closed her eyes, Paarthurnax spoke again.

"Dovahkiin?"

"Yes?"

"Unslaad werid, briinah. Thank you."

That evening, for the first time since her hurried flight into Skyrim, Alayne felt at peace.


End file.
